Red Everywhere
by Penelope Wendy Bing
Summary: Everyone dies in their arena, even the Victors. It just takes a little longer for them.


**A/N**- This is a oneshot. I'm usually not much of a poet, but I had free time today and decided to try my hand and a poem. I think this actually came out pretty well, albeit with a few lines that didn't rhyme. To warn you, this is a little disturbing, and very dark. And so is the fact that I don't own the Hunger Games. On a much happier note, a big thanks to my beta LoveTheBoyWithTheBread, whose fanfic Haunting the Loser inspired me to write this. I highly suggest you read that. Now that you've reached the end of this huge author's note, enjoy the story.

_Death is everywhere,_

_it coats my hands and hair,_

_horror stabs my stomach,_

_I'm wounded by my own terror._

_How many children left now,_

_as I wipe blood and sweat off my brow,_

_how many more young lives will end,_

_before the winner takes their final bow?_

_I'll never escape the things I've done,_

_(I think that this makes twenty-two dead, perhaps twenty-one),_

_I even killed my own District partner,_

_even if I live I'll only be shunned._

_Five faces crowd my memory,_

_people whose killer was me,_

_I will live forever hating myself,_

_something I hope their parents can see._

_I turn away from my new corpse to cry,_

_I didn't even know her but I made sure that she died,_

_and then I see him hiding there,_

_the final child who will kill me, or try.  
_

_He gives an animal howl, a horrible scream,_

_one last fight will end this Capitol scheme,_

_before I know it he lies dead at my feet,_

_this must be just some grisly dream._

_The announcer commends me but I don't hear him anymore,_

_I sit down with a bump 'midst the blood and the gore,_

_I can't even think,_

_as they lift me through the hovercraft's door._

_They need a whole week to get me to heal,_

_as I stubbornly reject each and every meal,_

_I'm stuck through with all sorts of tubes,_

_I want nothing more than not to feel._

_As the mindless crowd cheers for me,_

_I can think only of my final atrocity,_

_his guts strewn out across the ground,_

_his brains decorating a tree._

_Then all of a sudden I'm destroyed myself,_

_nobody notices and nobody helps,_

_I'm so betrayed by this injustice,_

_but I'm also more grateful than words can tell._

_As I lie on the floor in a pool of blood,_

_surrounded by the Capitol citizen's love,_

_the recap just goes right along,_

_no one cares that my head's rolling in the mud._

_At first I'm relieved,_

_death will be a reprieve,_

_from the violence that still stains my eyelids,_

_but something's gone wrong and I cannot leave._

_I don't fade away; I'll be stuck here forever,_

_I'll never be able to endure this, never,_

_is this the Capitol's one final trick,_

_I had no idea they were so clever._

_Blood pools 'round my head,_

_I think that I'm dead,_

_and I live forever in horror,_

_surrounded by red._

I sit up with a gasp. My dog Roro whimpers by the door to my room. I must have been screaming in my sleep again. But aren't dogs able to smell fear? Maybe he just knew I was having that nightmare again. I shudder. That nightmare. It's one of my most frequent night visitors. I have it memorized, not that I want to.

There's that fourteen-year-old girl. She died much faster than that poor boy. I'm standing over her body, hating myself, when I see him. We fight and he is totally destroyed. Shiny parts from the inside of his body that I can't name are strewn everywhere. I don't even remember how I managed to do that.

But I'll never forget the way that looked. It's been died into my eyelids; I see that carnage wherever I look. It never gets easier. I always want to throw up.

I swing my legs out of bed. I won't be able to get back to sleep for at least another hour.

I head downstairs unsteadily. I pull some fresh bread from the breadbox. I've always loved bread. Now I can afford the doughiest, most delicious bread. It's my comfort food. I pick up the kitchen knife and take the loaf to the table. I sit down and slice off three hunks of bread. I take a bite out of one and put the knife down.

And then I pick the knife back up. I look at the way the stainless steel blade reflects the light of the lamp.

I'm still in my arena, really. I'll never be able to move beyond what happened. I'll always be living through constant torture. In my nightmares I can see clearly. _I'll never be able to endure this, never._

This time I lie in a pool of blood for real. Red is seeping into my clothes, my hair. It'll take some work to get this out of the floor tiling. Roro whimpers and cowers, and I smile faintly as the arena doors close for good.


End file.
